


The Pull-out

by adropofred



Series: BODMOD AU! [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Bickering, Blow Jobs, Cis Character, Come Swallowing, Fluff, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 08:38:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15926807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adropofred/pseuds/adropofred
Summary: Sometimes when you wake up early in the morning in your boyfriend(!!!)'s  pull-out bed, and he starts taking the piss about your cat, all you can do is let him suck your dick.Hermann's a saint, that's what he is.





	The Pull-out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lydkyd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydkyd/gifts).



> BODMOD AU! again, waaay after [_Soda Pop For Free_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15786072). Tl;dr: Newt is a tattoo artist, Hermann is a piercer, they work in the same parlour.
> 
> Not that any of this matters, this is just cute funny porn.
> 
> Written for Lyd, because they pointed out astutely that Newt either had a weird setup or a huge flat to have a bunch of reptiles, so I went "UHH he lives in a one-bedroom, but it's for the LizdKidz and all their crap, he sleeps on a pull-out in the living room".
> 
> The shit Hermann does for a BJ, my ghouls.

Hermann wakes up because Newt’s hair is tickling his nose, and allows himself to smile very, very privately, before groaning and nuzzling the mess of spiky brown hair until Newton whimpers. He yelps when Hermann curls his legs around his, dragging his cold feet from where they’re sticking out at the end of the mattress, pressing his toes against Newt’s shins.

“ _Nnno_ ,” Newt whimpers plaintively, trying to shy away from the cold touch while still staying spooned up in front of Hermann.

“If you had a real bed,” Hermann tells him, shifting and letting the cheap bedsprings speak for themselves, “My feet wouldn't stick out and I wouldn’t have to do this.”

Newt pinches his wrist. “If we were in  _ your _ real bed, I’d have a cat butt in my face, and there's only one butt I want in my face.”

“Newt!”

He only laughs and sighs a little when Hermann bites his neck, where there’s the pointy spine of a huge monster on soft, downy skin.

“You miss having cats in your bed, babe?” Newt asks, his voice full of the breathy innocence he puts on before a bad,  _ bad _ dirty joke, and Hermann tightens his grasp around him in warning.

“Don’t bring Miz Purrie into this,” he grumbles, trying to nose his way down Newton’s shirt to his collarbones, if only to distract him from saying more silly things.

A shiver curves Newton’s spine like a parenthesis, pushes his arse closer to Hermann’s crotch. “Hey, you’re hard,” Newt murmurs, sounding delighted by the prospect, “M’barely awake and you’re already poking me with it.”

He doesn't sound cross, not at all, he pushes back a little and turns his head to kiss Hermann.

“Your breath is awful,” Hermann mumbles against his lips.

“Come on, I know Marie’s got worse—” Hermann kisses him just to shut him up, a short press of the mouth, and he lets Newt turn around to kiss his cheek, his chin, his neck. His morning stubble is a little rough against Hermann’s skin; it makes him tremble a little, makes his head swim. “Got a different kinda pussy here though.”

“No,” Hermann mutters, eyes closed, focusing on his leg as Newt rubs the raised skin of his scars for a minute, cajoling, comforting, “This is not happening.”

Newt sneaks a hand up under his pyjama shirt, teases a nipple with the blunt end of his nail. “Yeah it is,” he says when Hermann moans quietly, his cock firming up in the loose fabric, “Marie and I, we got that in common, you can’t resist us…”

“Can you quit talking about my cat?” Hermann asks with a look down at Newt’s gleeful face, his chin stretching the collar of Hermann’ shirt so he can suck love bites on his breastbone.

“Well I offered to talk about a different kind of pussy,” Newt argues, switching tactics and pushing Hermann’s shirt up to his chin without ceremony to tug at the ring on his right nipple, “But you refused, so.”

Hermann bucks his hips against Newt’s belly, pants and blinks helplessly at the ceiling when Newton's mouth replaces his fingers, then travels down Hermann’s ribcage to the dip of his tense stomach. His hands frame Hermann’s hips, invite him to lay on his back and under more kisses.

“Newton,” Hermann murmurs, sweet and tight this time, “Sweetheart, Newt, that’s lovely,” he continues when Newt sucks at a spot on his navel, before he loses words, “Ah—”

Newt laughs against his waistband of Hermann’s pyjamas, fisting his hands in it to yank them down.

“God, get a room.”

“ _ You  _ get a room!” Hermann stutters back in surprise, the skin of his neck and breasts pinking up. “Quite literally! And why would I need a room of my own?”

“For you and your giant boner for me,” Newt singsongs, punctuating each modulation with a tug until Hermann’s cock springs free.

“It’s hardly  _ giant _ .”

Newt splays himself on his belly and makes a show of wriggling an arm under himself, out of sight, into his boxers. “It’s the thought that counts,” Newton tells him sweetly.

He gasps when Hermann tugs at his hair, then laughs himself into moans he stifles on his cockhead. Hermann pushes his hair back and away from his forehead, touches the multicoloured steel of Newt’s helix piercing, the scruffy line of his jaw, to the smooth slickness of his mouth. He cants his hips up into the warmth of it, breathes in the smell of Newt’s sheets and breathes out minced little whimpers.

Newton is sloppy, still sleepy but wound up from laughing at Hermann, his shoulder moving and twisting as he touches himself. His hips are rocking into the motion, the stretched waistband of his boxers cutting a line in the fat of his arse and hips, and he’s nothing but suggestion. Hermann pictures it: two of Newton’s fingers curled on either side of his clit to keep it snug, the tip of his peach-polished nail teasing the sensitive head of his erection. He moans, twists his fingers in Newt’s hair.

“Already?” Newt asks, sounding and looking delighted when Hermann frowns down at him. He squirms a little, rocks his hips, and moans before mouthing at Hermann’s cockhead again, tonguing cleverly at the slit, pressing the hard ball of his piercing right under the glans.

Hermann pants. “Are you going to swallow?”

“Of course I’m going to swallow,” Newt says with an irritated frown, “Stop asking stupid questions, just come.”

“Nagging, from sun up,” Hermann grits out, arching his back and rubbing his thumb over the bed of freckles on Newton’s forehead, “Nagging unless you keep your mouth busy, Newton, it runs off from you otherwise, sweetheart, do you know, darling Newt, my darling,  _ ah _ —”

Newt muffles his moans on Hermann’s prick, his throat working ceaselessly until Hermann is coming, holding his head with trembling hands. He pulls Newton off to let him breathe and finish himself off, shaking, gasping with Newt sucks a kiss at the crease of his hip then rests his temple against his thigh. Hermann cradles his head, thumbs at his mouth to wipe off semen and saliva and feel the vibration of his cries when he comes, his back curved like a bow, his teeth biting at Hermann’s knuckles.

It takes a moment for Hermann’s heart to quiet, and eventually he has to tug Newton up to lay his head on Hermann’s belly instead of his lap, but when things settle again he feels happily, stupidly tired, laying on his back and raking his fingers through Newt’s hair. Newton might have dozed off, curled up on himself with the blanket over their legs.

Hermann is proven wrong when Newt stretches out his arms before snickering, suspiciously quiet in a way that makes Hermann’s skin crawl.

“What is it?”

Newton tilts his head to look at him, dopey and a little guilty. He grins. “It’s just very nice.”

“It is,” Hermann agrees warily, but Newt settles back down, so he relaxes and resumes following the natural spiral in Newt’s scalp with his fingers.

“Mmh-mm.” Newt yawns, stretches his legs this time. “Me laying half on you, getting my scruff scratched, all that.”

Hermann stills. When he looks down, Newt is turned away, but he can see where he’s grinning by the obvious curve of his cheek.

“I hate you,” he says with thoughtful resolution, “I’ll abandon you in the forest.”

He takes advantage of Newton’s burst of laughter to smile, just a little, and soak it all in like a warm sunbeam.

**Author's Note:**

> Less wordly on Twitter @[callmealois](http://twitter.com/callmealois).


End file.
